Vincit Quae Se Vincit
by EORS
Summary: Bryn's crippling fear threatens to ruin her life, and in trying to follow the obvious paths to overcoming it, she discovers she has deeper problems to work on than she believed. Just when she thinks she's finally where she wants to be, catastrophe strikes and makes her unsure if she's actually changed at all. Movie-based AU, featuring more Norse religion, 10-20 yrs after Dragons 2
1. The Ceremony

Bryn was leaning on the cage's fence, watching the Shovelhelm adoringly. The little dragon was happily playing with the dirt in her stall, digging up the packed earth and pounding it into a mound with her head. In the distance a clock's bell tolled, and so, reluctantly, Bryn pulled herself away and walked down the hall toward the door connecting to her home. As she passed the incubation shelves she glanced over them with an expert eye, noting two new additions with a disappointed sigh. No egg that came to them had a happy story. Still, she was pleased to note that their Terrible Terror clutch was nearly ready to hatch. She loved introducing new dragons to the world, and the Terrors were adorably friendly and very funny.

Unfortunately, Bryn had little time to brood on this as she'd reached the door. She hesitated, but pushed on through the door. With her mother, avoiding the inevitable would only make it worse. As she stepped through, she was immediately confronted by an armored chest and swept into a tight hug.

"Hi mom," Bryn gasped out, weakly returning the hug.

"How's my brave girl? Looking forward to the Ceremony tomorrow?" Freya the Swift asked, pulling back and examining Bryn's face eagerly. Bryn made eye contact and a weak smile.

"Yep, real excited. I can't wait. I hope I get a Silver Phantom, or a Night Fury, or at least- um- a Monstrous nightmare." Bryn said with all the excitement she could muster, naming her mother's favorite dragons. Bryn didn't have favorites, but personally she hoped to get a Terrible Terror or something else tiny and un-ride-able, so she wouldn't be expected to learn to fly. If she'd said as much to her mother, though, there'd have been another long argument and she really didn't want to have to deal with that just then. She would get what she would get and figure the rest out later.

"Oh, I remember my Ceremony," Freya said cheerfully, pulling Bryn over to the table and sitting down with her in the remaining daylight. "They paint all the eggs black so we can only guess what kind we've gotten from shape and size, but that hardly narrows it down. Well, you know that, of course, but then I could hardly guess. It was already cracking and we all sat with our eggs for hours as our dragons emerged. I was hoping for a Silver Phantom too, but when Coal emerged from her egg I loved her right away. Not because she was a rare Night Fury but because as soon as her head was out of the shell she looked at me, a chip of egg stuck to her egg-tooth, with this look in her eyes that I simply can't describe." Her eyes were glazed over with nostalgia. "I know your day is going to be just as special, and whatever dragon you get, you'll have a wonderful time flying with it."

Bryn nodded enthusiastically. "I know. I can hardly wait!" She feigned.

"Dinner!" Called Ottar, Bryn's father, and the family gathered to eat.

After dinner, Bryn wished her family a good night, then went up to her bedroom. Once there, she emptied the goose meat she'd stolen from dinner into an oilcloth, which she promptly tied up and carried over to the window, which looked over the roof of the hatchery. Without a second thought she opened the window as quietly as she could, vaulted the sill, and closed it nearly all the way, with a short stout stick holding it open. As silently as possible she crouch-walked over to a tree. The natural daylight was nearly gone, which she was thankful for- she wasn't sure she would be able to do this during the day, when the distance to the ground would be clearly visible. Hands trembling and sweaty, she gripped the bag in her mouth and grabbed onto a sturdy branch as thick as her two arms together. Slowly, heart pounding and breath too fast, she made herself swing over on top of it and crawl painfully slowly to the trunk, where she lowered herself slowly, the buzzing in her ears receding and her senses slowly returning to normal. She dropped herself on the last two feet and crumpled, her whole body shivering in needless fear, though she was intensely relieved it was over. After mere seconds she made herself stand and start walking through the dark village to the temple of Odin at the top of a hill. By the time she reached it her knees no longer felt weak and her fingers had regained all of their feeling. Confidently she stepped inside and approached a cold brazier. In she tossed some wood and set her meat beside it. She grabbed some kindling and a torch from a wall sconce, which she used to light the kindling and, by tossing it into the brazier, the thinner sticks and thereby the log. She returned the torch to its sconce and went back to the brazier. She picked up the bag of meat and cleared her throat softly and whispered what amounted to a prayer.

"Um. Odin. So, tomorrow's Wednesday, you know, your day, and there's going to be this ceremony. Well, you know all about it, obviously, but the thing is, is that I'm terrified of heights. I'd love to fly dragons and go high and fast because it looks like amazing fun, but I know that as soon as I get off the ground I'll freeze up and probably fall and die, or at least embarrass myself and my family, and they don't deserve that. So, since tomorrow I'm going to be given a hatching dragon egg at random, I was hoping maybe you could see your way clear to doing me a favor and sending me one that's small, too small to ride, like a Terrible Terror or a Sliquefier or maybe a Smothering Smokebreath at the biggest? Anyway I know you like meat, especially stuff killed by strangling. Now I'm not totally sure, but I think geese are killed by strangling or at least neck-breaking and I'm sorry that I don't have much but I'm trying really hard to give you what you like. I'm sorry I don't know how to make my prayers sound sacred, but I hope this'll be enough to let you forgive me for that." As she spoke she'd untied the oilcloth and, with all the ceremony and dignity she could manage, fed the chunks of goose meat into the flames to burn. There she remained for roughly half an hour as she watched the meat be reduced to ashes, and once she was sure there was none left she began messing with the remaining wood with a poker, slowly quenching the dying fire until she was sure it wouldn't catch again. She then tucked the oilcloth into her belt and returned discreetly to her house, climbing the tree quickly by feel and crawling all the way to the end of the branch to be sure that when she swung down she would hit the roof of the hatchery. Then she snuck back into her room as silently as possible and crawled into bed.

She was shaken awake roughly by her mother the next morning. "It's the day of the ceremony! Come on, get up, I want you to look your best!"

Bryn rolled out of bed, feeling queasy with nerves but also a bit more hopeful for having curried at least a little favor with Odin. She pulled on a clean red tunic and thick work pants as well as a warm fur-lined hide jacket, over which she tied her work belt around her waist. This belt was very useful to her, with well-worn places where she attached her belt knife, freshly sharpened, her thick leather gloves, good for training the more violent or careless young, and a small pouch containing dried jerked meat, good enticement for the wayward youngsters. She pulled on her thick hide boots and looked at her reflection in the window. She cut a decent figure, she decided, and looked quite respectable and hardworking. She might only be twelve, but she was already quite strong in the arms and her hands had their fair share of scars. She examined her wavy brown hair, cut short like she liked it, and flattened some wayward strands. She spent a moment staring herself in the eyes- she always wondered if perhaps if she stared long enough she would see her soul, but a noise downstairs brought her back to herself. The door had slammed and her parents seemed to be exclaiming about something. Down the stairs she raced to see her little brother, ruddy-faced from the cold outside but cheerful.

"You're back! Oh, I was wondering if you would make it back in time, this is fantastic!" Freya was saying.

"Of course we made it back." Torbjorn mumbled. "I wanted to stay out longer and see if we could find a Bewilderbeast but Lintsocks was really strict about the schedule."

"It's too bad, I was hoping you'd miss the ceremony." Bryn shot at him sarcastically from the foot of the stairs.

"BRYN!" Tor yelled, tearing himself from his mother's hug and barreling toward his sister. Bryn pulled the eight-year-old up into a tight hug and swung him around in a circle, laughing.

"Come on, let's go feed the dragons, and you can tell me all about the wild ones you saw on your trip." Bryn said, setting the boy down and taking his hand. "I've been dying to hear all about it."

The pair spent an enjoyable morning together, first giving the baby dragons their breakfasts, checking on the incubating eggs, and then going in to have their own breakfasts. The whole time Tor regaled Bryn with the long, winding tale of his three-day dragon-spotting trip out around the neighboring islands with some of his friends and several of their parents. Bryn had done something similar once, but she'd hated it because she wasn't well-liked by others her age and the others had made fun of the sounds of excitement she'd made when she'd spotted an Eruptodon flapping its way toward a column of distant smoke. But Tor had had a blast and that made Bryn happy enough to almost forget her dread of the Ceremony, which was set to begin at ten.

As the clock tower tolled nine-thirty, the family of four departed the house and walked up to the town square in front of the chiefs' house and the meeting house, where the town was gathering. Every child who was at least twelve who had not been given their first dragon in the ceremony was present, as were their families, the co-Chiefs Hiccup and Astrid were there, as well as the priestess of Odin and the warpriest of Thor, though the ceremony would be primarily lead by Odin's priestess, it being Wednesday and everything.

The holy pair led the townspeople into the meeting house, where black-painted eggs were being kept warm around the central fire. Each had been additionally labeled with a cloth number. The warpriest picked up a bag and held it open, and the priestess lined up the prospective dragon-raisers to take a cloth number from the bag. Bryn felt like her stomach was filled with snakes as she approached the bag and pulled out a number. She walked around the others her age, slowly ringing around the stone hearth, finding a largish, oblong egg that, under its paint, seemed to be quite smooth with only a few possible blemishes. Bryn gulped. That was definitely no Terrible Terror egg. She hoped it was a Speed Stinger or something large but wingless.

Everyone had been assigned an egg, and every egg had begun to wobble and crack. Benches were pulled up and they all sat watching their eggs intensely. The priestess of Odin intoned a long prayer, blessing the dragon-human pairs that were about to bond. Bryn was intensely watching her egg, slowly deforming. She waited for what felt like days until the first piece of shell broke off. She saw her dragon's egg-tooth appear and a faint flash of pale scales. She had to remind herself to breathe several times as the muzzle of an ice-white head worked to make the hole larger by degrees. Bryn's heart sank as she recognized the shape of the head and body that slowly broke itself out of the egg. She knew most dragons were rideable, but why oh why did her very first dragon have to be the fastest and highest-flying dragon known? Why couldn't she at least work her way up?

The Silver Phantom, wings limp and weak, crawled out of the remains of its shell and toward Bryn, croaking questioningly. Bryn loved it at once, but at the same time her sense of dread had grown a hundredfold. Still, she picked it up and cradled it, blowing into its nostrils to teach it her scent. It stretched its long, thin neck up to her chin and nuzzled her as she stroked its thin, trembling body. "Let's get you warm." She said softly, undoing her work-belt, opening her jacket, and pressing it gently to her chest. She took a sling offered to her by the priestess with thanks, and tied it around herself, securing her new charge to her chest. Her fingers dove into her pouch of meat and took a small chunk out. Dissatisfied with its size, she broke it in two and offered the first to the newborn, who took it hungrily. Slowly she fed it a healthy first meal, and then it tucked its head under a fold of the sling and went to sleep.

Bryn looked around. Her fellow initiates were in similar ways, feeding other baby dragons in slings. She spotted a Hideous Zippelback, a Groncicle, a Terrible Terror, a Monstrous Nightmare, a Shovelhelm, a Raincutter, and a Night Terror. Bryn frowned, but looking back down at the dragon on her chest, she couldn't resent it.

She could resent Odin, though. After the ceremony, she settled the dragon she had decided to name Aurora down in her own bed, which would serve for the time being. She shook her proud mother off at the front door and went down to the stony shore, though her family thought she was going to read the manual entry on Silver Phantoms. Picking up stones, she threw them out to sea angrily, yelling incoherently until her hands were empty. Then she yelled at the sky. "WHY? Why did you do this to me?" She screamed at the air. "What did I do wrong? I didn't ask for anything big! There were two whole non-flying dragons you could have given me!" She picked up more stones and hucked them as far as she could manage before shouting some more. "Did you want more goose? That was all the goose I had! I gave you everything I could manage last night!" Stone after stone plopped unsatisfyingly into the ocean, though her arms were getting pleasingly sore. "I should've prayed to Thor! He's not sadistic!" she yelled angrily. She'd have to go in soon.

She turned and very nearly fell into the ocean. "Oh gods, Chief Hiccup, I apologize." She said, kneeling and bowing her head. "That was terribly undignified and heretical, I apologize."

"Everyone gets angry at the gods sometimes." Hiccup said with a chuckle, sitting down beside her. "Do you want to talk about it, or just sit here for a bit? The sea it a great place to think."

Bryn stared at him, then sat down, feeling weird and uncertain. "I'd want to talk about it, I suppose," she said, "but I think you'd try to do something about it which might end up badly for me. I mean, it's kind of embarrassing and secret, but I don't know how to deal with it. I mean, if I'd gotten a different dragon it would've been alright, but I think Aurora was the worst choice for me."

"How would a different dragon have made a difference?" Hiccup asked levelly.

Bryn was silent for a minute. "I- um- I _really_ don't want my mom to know about this, but I'm really, really afraid of heights. I freeze up, I lose control, I panic. Anything more than five feet up I feel it, and the higher I am the worse it is. But my mom wants me to become a great flyer like her, or at least someone who flies a lot. She's crazy about Aurora being a Silver Phantom, she's already making space on the walls for racing medals. And, I'd love to fly, but I know I can't." Bryn put her face in her hands. "I've tried so hard to become less scared. I know that here, it's so incredibly safe. That a trained dragon would catch me, or there would be netting, or it wouldn't even be dangerous enough for that. I know it's safe in the saddle, but even though I know it I can't convince my body it's safe."

"Well, you have a few years before Aurora will be able to fly you anywhere. You have time to work through this, and if you want I can delay your flight training until you've worked over this." Hiccup said.

Bryn jumped to her feet. "You can't do that just for me." She said. "I- I should've handled this already, I've had this coming for years, and mom will know something's up if I don't go to flight training, I just- I-" A bell tolled, and Bryn froze. "I've got to go, I told my family I'd only be gone half an hour." She said. "I'm so sorry, Chief, don't worry about me, I'm not worthy of your aid-" she said humbly, backing up and then dashing away back up the island to her house. It had felt good to say everything out loud, but she'd just have to power through flight training. She pushed through the door, gave a hurried greeting to her family and dashed up the stairs to see Aurora.

The tiny dragon was still sleeping, but in her room Bryn found a box of sand, which she assumed was for a litter box, and a large wooden crate thoroughly lined with soft blankets, for a bed that would suit the dragon for a good few years. With gentle hands she transferred the hatchling to the box and left an old shirt covered in her scent inside, so he would become accustomed to her scent and trust her more. She took off her belt and coat, laying the coat over the crate to reduce light and let the little dragon sleep a bit longer.

There was a gentle knock at her door, and Bryn let herself out so she wouldn't disturb Aurora. Outside stood her father, his one arm over a crutch and a gentle smile on his face. "Hey there, my little drag-yn." He said, using his favorite nickname for her. "I've got something for you." Leaning against the wall, he shifted and pulled a large, partly-worn-out, fur-lined hide jacket. "I know you don't like heights, but I know you're going to try and beat that. I'm so proud of you, and I want you to have this jacket. It's the one I wore on my first flight ever, and my first flight on Skadi. While you wear it, I'm going with you. I hope that- oh! Oh, Bryn, you'll do wonderfully. We're already so proud of you." The last remarks were inspired because Bryn's eyes had filled with tears and she was holding tightly to her father.

"Thank you, Papa," She said, her voice muffled against his chest.

"Of course." Ottar replied. There was a whine from inside the room. "Now, will you introduce me to your dragon?"

Bryn opened the door and went over to Aurora. The dragon quieted as soon as he saw her, and clawed his way out of the crate and up Bryn's leg, stopping when curled around her shoulders. "Hello, Aurora," Bryn cooed, stroking his nose where the egg-tooth still remained and would remain for a few days. "Come say hello to my dad, Ottar." She walked over to Ottar, who slowly introduced himself to Aurora. Together, after Bryn had wiped her eyes and her face was no longer reddened with tears, they brought Aurora down the stairs, Bryn wearing her father's old jacket with the jerked meat in her pocket. At the foot of the stairs they introduced Aurora to Tor and Freya, and when he nipped her ear she fed him again, then, since he looked overwhelmed, she brought him back upstairs and, all of a sudden, found herself giving him a first lesson in the use of the litter box.

The rest of the day passed with the family taking turned fawning over and playing with Aurora until he was thoroughly exhausted at sundown. Bryn went down to take care of her chores in the hatchery, feeding, turning eggs, checking that the heating system was working properly, and so on. The heating system was a clever invention of her father's- water pumping through a system of pipes that spread under the floor of the hatchery and behind the wall of the incubator shelves. The water was heated by a furnace under the stone floor, which Ottar handled since he did not want any accidents in the furnace room. First the water flowed past the incubators, which needed to be warmest, then under the dragon-cages, then back down to the furnace room.

Bryn was well and truly exhausted by the time dinner rolled around, too exhausted to dread the first day of flying practice the next day. She ate her dinner silently- well, _she_ was silent, her mother could hardly stop talking- wished her family a good night, went upstairs, checked on the sleeping newborn, and went to bed.

She had dreaded dreams of falling, but, with her sleeping hand unconsciously clutching the sleeve of her dad's old jacket, she slept peacefully.


	2. Training Day

Bryn woke up the next day to Aurora crawling over her and whining, nipping her ear gently. "Okay, okay, one moment," she grumbled, gently lifting him and setting him on the ground, then swinging her legs down to the floor. She walked over to where she'd left her work belt, closely tailed by the purple-white dragon, then recalled that the meat was in the pocket of her father's jacket and returned to the bed where she'd hung it over a bedpost. She fished in the pocket and pulled out some meat, breaking it into bits small enough for the dragon to safely swallow. As he ate she woke up more fully and remembered what she would be doing that day.

The snakes returned to her belly in an instant. She took some deep breaths as she dressed and put on her father's jacket. With the jacket on, she felt a bit calmer. It was as if her father was giving her a hug. She pulled on her tough gloves and carried Aurora down the stairs. She settled him around her neck as she went through the hatchery with morning chores, then went back to check on the Terrible Terror clutch. She frowned- she thought they ought to have been pipping at least, if not completely hatching, but perhaps she had overestimated their maturity. With a small shrug she re-entered the house, where her mother had prepared breakfast.

"This is unusual." Bryn remarked, sitting down and looking at her mother curiously.

"I wanted today to be special." Freya answered. "And Papa's leg is paining him this morning, so he's going slowly. We all want to see your first flight, but he wants to ask the neighbors to keep an eye on the Terror eggs this morning, in case they start hatching. I offered but he insisted on going himself— he should be back soon."

Bryn nodded as, yawning, Tor entered the main room. "Can't you guys be quiet in th'mornings?" He mumbled sleepily.

Bryn normally would have had an affectionate or sarcastic reply, but when Freya had said the whole family would be watching she suddenly felt very sick. What if she froze up again? What if she messed up? What if she fell? She was no longer hungry, but she wanted to look excited rather than terrified and made herself keep eating her mother's special breakfast. It was delicious, but it was very hard to enjoy it properly.

Somehow, Bryn managed to look excited enough that Freya didn't notice anything, and all too soon they were standing out on a clear bluff over the sea, an old steady Stormcutter waiting, saddled, for each new student to go for their first flight.

There were some other families there, looking excited and proud, but a few new fliers had come by themselves. Bryn chose a spot as far as possible from a couple of other kids who she recalled as having made fun of her often without provocation. She struggled a moment to recall their names- one was named Deadworm, which suited her blond dreds, and she remembered her calling her friend Foxtongue. Well, he did have rather a foxlike face, with a pointed chin, small pointed nose, and small dark eyes.

She shook her head and turned to study the stormcutter. It was clearly aging, but still strong, and quite calm. She tried to get a good look at its saddle, which seemed strong and firmly attached to the dragon. Her train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of Lintsocks, the older Viking who had taken Tor and his friends out dragon-spotting. He was grey-haired but still quite vigorous and one of the most respected and skilled dragon-riders on Berk.

"Welcome to flight training." He said with a warm smile. "Today will be very simple. You'll all be just sitting on Cirrus's saddle and letting her take you for a short ride. You'll be able to get a feel for the saddle and learn what it feels like to go flying. Once you've all been on one flight, we'll put you all on some experienced dragons and go on a group flight together."

Everybody murmured excitedly. Aurora squawked and Bryn turned to stroke her for a moment. Bryn waited for her turn as each student took a first flight and returned glowing excitedly. The wind picked up throughout the morning, and by the time it was Bryn's turn it was powerful enough that Bryn had to lean into it. Nervously she approached Cirrus and stepped into the saddle, holding on as tightly as she could, her knuckles cold and bloodless.

As Cirrus stood, Bryn had a first view over the cliff and felt her limbs lock. She bent low over Cirrus's neck as she took off unsteadily. She whimpered as she rocked side to side in the wind, pitched forward and back with each wingbeat, and continued to panic about falling. She shut her eyes, her body was shaking, when a sudden gust blew Cirrus over and she rolled back upright. Unprepared, Bryn slipped and screamed shortly, struggling to regain her footing. Cirrus was unbalanced, so Bryn slipped further and, unable to think clearly or properly control her extremities, fell. She had no air to scream as she tumbled wildly towards the stony beach. She shut her eyes and prayed to wake up from the nightmare.

Talons closed around her body and pulled her limp form up to the top of the bluff once again, setting her down gently. Bryn shakily pulled herself to her feet and was instantly gripped and helped up by Lintsocks. "Are you alright?" He asked as Cirrus proper her up from behind. Bryn shook her head, fighting against her stomach as she passed out.

Bryn awoke a minute later, hearing snickering and feeling a weight on her chest. She opened her eyes and saw Aurora lying on her chest, shivering in the wind. "Oh no, you need to stay warm," she murmured, opening her father's jacket and letting the little dragon burrow in, refastening the slightly overlarge coat over him. She sat up and looked around.

Her parents were talking to Lintsocks urgently, Tor holding tight to their hands. She saw Deadworm and Foxtongue were the source of the snickering, and her face burned as she noticed how frequently they glanced in her direction. She looked back at her family at a cry from Tor, who'd noticed she was awake. Her family moved around her, Freya hugged her, mindful of the quivering lump under her clothes.

"I'm alright," Bryn protested, "it was just a lot to handle. I thought I was dead." She gripped her mom's hand. "I'm alright." She then reached out for Tor, who looked on the verge of tears. "I'm alright, Tor."

"Why did you faint?" He asked in a whisper.

"I couldn't believe I was alive I was just so astonished and happy to see you again I couldn't handle it." Bryn whispered back, holding him and trying to suppress her shaking. "I'm all better now though."

The dragon Cirrus approached, and the quivering on Bryn's chest became more pronounced. Bryn broke from Tor to pat the guilty-looking dragon's head. "Thank you for saving me. It wasn't your fault I fell, it was an accident." She murmured, scratching Cirrus's scaly chin appreciatively. "It's okay."

What a way to get through her first flight, she thought. Perhaps she'd be excused for a time, which would let her try and become better with heights and handle her next flight better.

Just as she thought this, Lintsocks approached. "You should go home today, Bryn. I want you to take tomorrow off too, and Saturday we'll organize so you can catch up. But before you go home, will you get back into the saddle? You won't fly anywhere, Cirrus will just walk around a bit. Trust me, it'll help prevent this from making flight terrifying for you."

Bryn nodded, and, mindful of Aurora, re-mounted Cirrus, who politely followed Lintsocks as he lead the dragon in a walking circle around the top of the bluff. Bryn didn't try to smile or seem alright, but simply leaned away from the edge of the bluff as they passed it. At last she was allowed to dismount and, in the company of her family, returned home.

They were silent until they entered the house, where they were greeted by the sight of four eggs gently shaking on the table, signs of pipping on each. "The Terrors!" Tor exclaimed excitedly, sitting with their neighbor, Mudpie, at their table.

"You're back early." Mudpie said, looking around. "Has something happened?"

"I accidentally fell, and Lintsocks sent me home for the day." Bryn said shortly, sitting with Tor to watch the eggs hatching. She was watching the hatching on one level, but paying no attention; the vision of the pipping eggs sliding off her brain like waves at the shore. She was really thinking about the flight, obsessing over every moment. She remembered the long drop, though now her reaction seemed silly- why had she clenched up? If she'd relaxed and ben more aware she would've probably been able to hang on when Cirrus rolled. At least if she'd been unseated she could've worked her way back on if she'd had her eyes open. Why hadn't she screamed when she fell? Why had the air gone out of her? What if Cirrus hadn't noticed she'd fallen because she didn't make noise?

Aurora had crawled out of his warm spot and was walking among the eggs, sniffing curiously until Tor pulled the dragon onto his lap and stroked the hatchling's smooth scales happily.

She only dropped out of her obsessing when her father put his hand on her shoulder. She looked up and around and she got up. She promptly tripped over her feet trying to bow as she saw Chief Astrid framed against the door.

"Let's go for a walk." Astrid said in that way of hers, where it sounded almost like a request but was definitely an order. Bryn went to open the door for Astrid, following her out and leaving her parents behind. "You are quite the lucky kid." The blonde warrior commented, her hand on Bryn's shoulder.

Bryn disagreed silently, with vehemence, but didn't dare to do so out loud. "Cartainly- I have been lucky to speak with both Chiefs in the course of two days. I think anybody would be honored." She said nervously.

"Let's talk about that, then. Hiccup told me what you said yesterday, so I decided to watch today's training." Astrid said. Bryn blanched.

"You were watching?" She asked, feeling sick again.

"Do you actually want to become a dragon rider? I hear that you seem to really enjoy working in your dad's hatchery." Astrid said, not leadingly but curiously.

"It sounds fantastic, and I don't want to disappoint my mother." Bryn admitted. "So yes, but it won't be easy at all."

"No, especially if you can't get a handle on your fear." Astrid replied. By this time they'd made it out into the woods, away from the village. "Your position in the saddle was nearly the worst possible way to stay on. With the wind, you were doomed. It was good that your weight was low, but your anxiety was stopping you from relaxing into a stable position."

Bryn was staring at Astrid. Then she hook her head to clear her thoughts. "I know I need to get over my fear of heights." Bryn said unhappily. "Obviously." She instantly clapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry." She muttered through her fingers.

"That's alright." Astrid said, laughing. "You shouldn't be sorry for being honest. Now, you may know my husband was once a Blacksmith's apprentice. Well, he likes to tinker around, and he's been working on a certain machine for a while. You see, it's dangerous to have young kids learning to fly, but as you've shown us today not everyone is able to manage the saddle right away. So, if you help us do the final tests on his machine, it'll not only help you when you get in the saddle, but I will personally help you work through your fear of heights. Alright?"

As she spoke they came upon a simple hut out in the woods, which Astrid opened and showed Bryn inside of.

Bryn's mouth was open as she stared at the machine. A great frame of metal bars ran along the walls and roof of the one room. Suspended from this frame was a mock-up saddle attached to what was clearly supposed to be a dummy dragon body. It was currently steady on the floor, the pulleys suspending the ropes themselves on pulleys which could raise and lower the whole mechanism, clearly designed to be difficult to balance on.

"Well?" Astrid asked impatiently.

"Oh! Yes, yes please. I want to be as good as I can be!" Bryn said, snapping back to the present. "Can I try it out?"

"You can have one try now, but then you really have to go home and rest. You've had a very hard day." Astrid decided. Bryn dashed forward excitedly and mounted the saddle, adopting the positions he'd seen most dragon riders use, almost sitting up but leaning forward a little, back straighter, heels down, hands firmly gripping but not locked tight. Astrid activated the machine, which lifted the dummy saddle rig into the air. Wind began blasting from different directions, and Bryn wobbled, fighting to stay on until the dummy flipped and with a smack she hit the well-padded floor.

"A little advice: When the dragon moves, lean in with it. You'll find your balance." Astrid said, helping Bryn up.

"Thank you so much for this opportunity." Bryn said, bowing more gracefully than she had at the house. "I am honored."

"Please stop bowing and scraping," Astrid said, "It's very uncomfortable for me. Just say thank you and I'll know what you mean."

"Sorry." Bryn said. "Thank you." She walked through the door Astrid had opened, and they walked back together, Astrid explaining her plan to train Bryn out of her fear of heights.

"I've talked to Lintsocks. You won't be training with him for a while. Instead we'll spend time having you practice climbing trees. You'll have a task to do up there, like making a map or writing about what you see, something like that. We'll also spend time on the practice saddle, so that when you try flying again, you'll be able to feel like you're in a more familiar place and you'll have the skill to stay in the saddle more effectively." Astrid said. "Most of the time it'll be myself or Lintsocks, or whoever is free."

As Astrid spoke and they walked back to town, it struck Bryn again what an honor this was. Before they got too near Bryn's home, she stopped and looked up at Astrid. "Can I ask you a question and a tiny favor?" She asked in a low voice. Astrid nodded, looking curious. Bryn took a deep breath. "Why have you and Chief Hiccup taken an interest in me? I mean, surely there are other people more worthy of your time, and you have to run the village-" She cut herself off as Astrid looked ready to respond.

"/I/ wanted to help you when I heard about you from Hiccup. He told me how you were struggling and I wanted to see for myself. Seeing you get on Cirrus, even though I could tell you were scared, made me sure you wouldn't bail out partway through. You're tougher than you think, and you remind me of someone I knew when I was little. So that's the question. What's the favor?"

Bryn was glowing with pride, but then her heart sank a little as she remembered what her favor was. "Can you please not tell my mother I'm afraid of heights?"

Astrid looked thoughtful. "Hiccup mentioned you didn't want help because of something to do with your mother." She said. "Why shouldn't she know?"

"She is really excited about me learning to fly, and I don't want to disappoint her. And she doesn't know I'm afraid of heights because if she did she wouldn't understand. She'd tell me there's no real danger on Berk and dragons are great at catching their riders and people hardly ever fall. But it's not a logical fear like that, I know I'm pretty safe here, but no matter how hard I think about how safe it is I still freeze up. And- and I don't want my little brother to be ashamed of me either."

"What about your father?" Astrid asked.

"Dad understands, I think. At least he knows I'm trying to overcome it. He tries to be supportive, but since- well, in recent years it's been harder for him to go places, so he couldn't really help me much." Bryn said. Astrid nodded.

"I won't mention it to her." Astrid promised.

"Thank you." Bryn said, grinning at Astrid before trotting down the street to her house.

"Bryn! Bryn you missed it!" Tor said as she walked through the door. She shut it quickly behind her to stop the pack of baby Terrors from escaping. She picked one up and scratched under its chin as she walked over to the table where her family was sitting- Mudpie had clearly left. Aurora climbed off of Tor's shoulders, hissed at the Terror in Bryn's arms, and climbed up to her shoulder.

"What did Chief Astrid want?" Freya asked, looking like she was suppressing a real lot of excitement.

"Um-" Bryn said, thinking quickly. Best to go with the half-truth. "She was offering me special training, since I got a rarer dragon and had a bad fall today. At least, I think that's why, it wasn't totally clear. I accepted, of course, It was a huge honor."

"Wow, Bryn!" Tor said, eyes wide. Freya laughed excitedly, running over and hugging her around the shoulders. Ottar looked quizzical, but Aurora hissed as he was squashed and Bryn had to rescue him from Freya's hug.

Bryn could tell her family had more questions but deflected them quickly. The vaguer the lie, the better. "It's been a long day, and more exciting than I expected, so I'd kind of just like to finish up the chores and go to bed, if that's alright." She said.

"You're not doing chores tonight," Freya insisted.

"Oh, please, mom," Bryn protested.

"No, go to bed. You can do chores again tomorrow." Freya said, gathering up the Terrors with Tor and Ottar. Resigned, Bryn retired up the stairs to her own room. She spent a good deal of time playing with Aurora, who was energetic from having had little to do all day. She put on the thick gloves and had him perch on her hands, lifting him up and down so he flapped his wings. He wouldn't be able to fly just yet, but he needed to exercise his wings. Then she took up a dark lantern, lit it, and opened it just a crack, turning it this way and that so a line of light danced across the floor. Aurora chased it, his tail lashing madly and his eyes alight. She did this until he no longer seemed interested, which she took as a cue that he was genuinely tired. She tucked him into his bed and silently made her own preparations for bed, lying down despite being wide awake.

She couldn't believe that the Chiefs had taken an interest in helping her. Maybe it was just because they needed someone to test the effectiveness of Hiccup's new machine. That was probably it, she decided. She turned over. As long as she could learn to fly, what did it matter? Both sides were getting something out of it, she wasn't actually being singled out for special treatment. She shifted uncomfortably, bunching her blanket up in front of her. She'd let Mom and Tor think they were treating her specially. She'd let Dad think so too, but she had a feeling he'd guess she wasn't telling Freya the whole truth.

Bryn continued to toss and turn well into the night. Aurora woke up and Bryn spent some time with him, comforting the restless dragonet until he settled down again. Then she returned to bed, rolling over and shifting. She was drowsier, but had a hard time falling asleep as several times when she drifted off she was immediately woken by the falling nightmare. At last she sank into a deep sleep and a confused nightmare of falling, her mother screaming, and a cold sense of being alone.


	3. Renewal and Dread

Since Bryn was grounded for the day— in the sense that she would not be participating in any kind of training— she volunteered to do the majority of the tasks her father would normally do, giving him time to start socializing the new pack of Terrors. With Aurora curled around her neck and a young Hobblegrunt pulling a cart at her side, she made her way around the town, trading for dragon food, bedding for babies, and things the family needed. The Hobblegrunt was quite cheerful pulling the cart, and often switched between yellow and purple, its tiny, underdeveloped wings flapping with glee as it pushed a ball back to playing youngsters or got a treat from the butcher.

Towards the end of her round, Bryn came across the dragon-training class taking an afternoon break before working with their own hatchlings in the afternoon. Lintsocks gave a friendly wave, which Bryn returned. A couple of the students smiled nervously, which left Bryn confused until Deadworm, Foxtongue, and another crony of theirs, a rather simple fellow named Blood, approached, sneering to a man. The half-trained Hobblegrunt turned purple, stretching out its neck to greet the newcomers' hatchlings. Deadworm's Monstrous Nightmare looked on coldly as Foxtongue's Gronckle and Blood's Snafflefang reached out to greet the older dragon.

"Can I help you?" Bryn asked, courteous but nervous.

"We just came over to congratulate you on getting over your fear of adult dragons." Deadworm said carelessly, indicating the Hobblegrunt. "I mean, working in that hatchery, you probably never met anything bigger than a dog, so it's no wonder you were so scared yesterday."

"By the way," Foxtongue added, pulling his Gronckle back toward him, "I hope your _recovery_ is going well. Too bad you dropped out because you were just _so traumatized_. It must be hard living such a cushy life."

"Well, if you want to try becoming a real Viking again, I'm sure your dear little brother would be able to help you out, since he's able to look at a grown Eruptodon without squealing in terror." Blood put in.

The Hobblegrunt had caught the tone of the other three trainees and had pulled back, watching them with its purple scales starting to tint red. Bryn wasn't sure she'd mind of these three got blasted, but there were bystanders who might get hurt, and she was afraid that if she let the dragon blast them she might get in trouble with the chiefs and not be allowed to train at all. She put a hand on the Hobblegrunt's neck to soothe it and then looked back at the bullies.

"At least I can feel good about myself without tearing other people down. Now if you'll excuse us," Bryn began to guide the Hobblegrunt around the three others, but Blood blocked their way.

"What was that, little girl?" Blood asked, taking one aggressive step too close. Before Bryn could react the Hobblegrunt lunged at him, claws reaching out and long, sharp teeth bared. Blood stumbled back, claw marks on his face and arms, his baby Snafflefang hissing at the Hobblegrunt as Bryn pulled it back.

"What's going on?" Lintsocks cried, approaching swiftly and looking between the four tweens and five dragons.

"Bryn set her dragon on Blood!" Deadworm yelled.

"That's not true!" Bryn yelled back, straining with all her might to restrain the Hobblegrunt. "I was trying to walk away and Blood got in our way." The Hobblegrunt began to relax, and Bryn was able to release it partially. "He's not completely trained up, and if his buttons are pushed too much he lashes out. We're still working with him."

Lintsocks frowned. "Well, it sounds like it was probably an accident." He said. "Regardless, Blood, we need to get you cleaned up. Class, you have twenty more minutes of break!" he called back to the rest of the staring students. "Deadworm, Foxtongue, better go back to the group so Bryn and this Hobblegrunt can pass without having to worry about another outburst." The Hobblegrunt had turned its orange sulking color by the time Lintsocks pulled Blood back to his feet and walked off with him to the well to wash off his cuts.

Bryn softly scolded the Hobblegrunt until they were out of sight of the others, then fell silent, now sullen, as the Hobblegrunt gradually went from orange to yellow. Bryn, however, remained unhappy. If the other trainees thought she was stuck up or weak now, what would they say if they found out she was getting trained by Chief Astrid? Come to think of it, what rumors were they already spreading, given how ready they were to lie to Lintsocks right away?

Deeply unhappy, she returned home with the cart and unloaded everything into the storage room behind the hatchery. Aurora pushed his head against her cheek, sensing her mood and worrying, and she stroked him soothingly. She unharnessed the Hobblegrunt and let it return to its perch, then stored the cart. She walked into the hatchery, where her father and Tor were doing to feeding rounds.

"Somebody needs to take that Hobblegrunt," she commented, "it needs full-time training. It's getting aggressive."

"What happened?" Ottar asked curiously, sounding a little concerned.

"Oh, I was doing the rounds, and there were these other trainees, they were mad about something, and the mood infected it, and it lashed out." Bryn said, mumbling the middle part. "The guy it attacked is fine, just some scratches, but the Hobblegrunt needs someone who can train it all the time and keep it in check."

Ottar nodded. "I can ask around to see who's interested. Yesterday a few folks mentioned they were thinking about getting a new dragon, and Greta from down the street, her last Night Terror just passed away. We'll see if we get anyone in today."

Dragon-selling was an unsteady business, but they did well enough for themselves, especially with Freya's income as a dragon-rider patrolman and what she made on the side racing. That afternoon only the butcher came in. They were on very friendly terms with him, and since he provided a certain amount of dragon-food for free, he could pick one dragon for free every year. Tor keenly offered the Hobblegrunt, saying it only needed a little love and training, and that it was half-trained already, but the butcher wanted something younger and instead chose a month old Devilish Dervish for free and paid for a young Shovelhelm. The rest of the day passed quietly, though late in the afternoon Ottar caught his daughter alone.

"Are you really going to be training with the Chiefs?" He asked in that quiet, curious, piercing way of his.

Bryn shrugged, then nodded. "It's kind of weird. See, Chief Hiccup built this machine that's supposed to allow younger people to train in a less dangerous way, it's like a saddle on a dummy suspended by ropes and it's very wobbly. I'm going to be the first person to test it out, and in exchange Astrid will be training me out of my fear of heights." Bryn said, nearly whispering. Tor was out playing with friends, but she still didn't want to take any chance of being overheard if he came home unexpectedly or somebody walked in to adopt a young dragon.

"That's— huh. That's— well." Ottar said, not sure how to respond. "Well, that's wonderful," he decided finally, "though I wish you would tell your mother. She loves you. She wouldn't love you less for having a natural fear."

Bryn shrugged, making Aurora hiss as he was dislodged again. "Sorry." She muttered, holding up her arm for him to crawl out on to. "You should be practicing flying anyway," she told him, pumping her arm up and down to make him flap and exercise his wings. He was still only three days old, but already she could feel his weight lessen on her arm. Eventually he tired of this and jumped down to the ground, trotting down the hall to look at the other dragons. The ones less than a year old were in pens on the ground level, but any older than a year that had not yet been adopted had perches in the rafters above. There were very few of these older dragons, but it was difficult to find them homes since they tended to be wilder as adults than dragons adopted at a younger age.

Bryn followed her exploring charge, thinking. Even while she was always helping around the house, they barely had time to train the older dragons, and if she started going to training every day it would be even harder on her father. Sure, he would have Tor most of the day, but Tor was still a kid and unlike Bryn he had a lot of friends. Ottar would be on his own most of the time. But on the other hand, they didn't really have the money to hire help— did they? She wasn't sure, since she didn't know how much help would cost, unless somebody became a Hatchery apprentice, which wouldn't cost anything, but there would have to be somebody besides herself interested in doing that.

And yet part of her rebelled against the idea of getting a Hatchery apprentice. As much as she was determined to become a dragon rider, to conquer her fear, to be everything her mother was and everything she had admired all her life, she had always felt at home in the Hatchery. Watching eggs pip and hatch, creating soft first meals, teaching the youngsters how to fly, the smell of fresh dragon bedding, the sounds of tiny claws scampering across the floor, the way her muscles ached after a day of teaching aging dragons how to fly in the closed arena, it was all where she was most at home. She didn't want it to change, and yet she could think of a thousand times she had wished she could go on far-off adventures riding a dragon to defeat slavers and invaders and see strange new creatures.

She supposed it was selfish of her to wish nothing had to change at home to allow for her to learn to fly, but she couldn't help it.

The rest of the evening passed without incident. Bryn went to bed relatively cheerful, but in her dreams she was wandering alone in a crowd. A hand waved in the distance, and for some reason in her dream she knew it was Aurora waving to her, and she fought to get near him, but the crowd ignored her or pushed her back. She continued to struggle to him, but was met with scratching claws and yells. Somebody was telling someone else she had been attacking random passers-by, and the more she protested, the more people pulled away from her, muttering and casting dirty looks. She couldn't even get up for being pushed down, and when she tried to crawl to Aurora, where she was sure she would be safe from the menacing crowd, she was blocked by a wall of legs and kicked back.

She looked up— her family and the chiefs were watching her. Only her father looked sympathetic, but he had no crutch and couldn't come help her. Tor threw a rock at her and turned away, and, one by one, her mother, Chief Hiccup, and Chief Astrid turned away, as Foxtongue and Deadworm and Blood laughed themselves silly.

Bryn sat up with a jolt, panting and realizing her cheeks were wet. Hearing her move, Aurora clambered out of his crate and clawed his way into her bed, licking up the salt from her tears and chirping curiously. As Bryn stroke him, she noticed he squirmed uncomfortably and she took another look at him in the watery morning light. His eyes had attained a pale blue sheen, so she surmised that he must be preparing to shed. Gently she carried him down the stairs and out into town to the dragon-shedding pool. A couple others were down at the pool as well, yawning and conversing quietly as their growing dragons played or hid in the rock formations. A couple were also soaking in the pool, having already shed and waiting for their skin to no longer be so sensitive and delicate.

Aurora took off, happily diving into the dark crevices and starting to rub his shoulders on the rocks. Bryn winced— how had she not noticed he was so close to shedding? She mentally kicked herself for being so preoccupied with other things she hadn't noticed. Aurora should be like a baby to her, her highest priority. She had a few years before he was large enough to ride; she had plenty of time to learn that, but she needed to put him first, since he needed care every day. He was going to be with her all his life— flying, bullies, the hatchery, those were things that weren't her responsibility.

As the sun passed the horizon, Aurora dashed from the rocks into the pool, gleefully paddling and relaxing in the water, the lobes of his wings separating on the surface as he floated happily. Bryn sighed. Watching him made her feel better— he didn't care about how she hadn't noticed, he had so few worries, it was kind of relaxing to just watch him play in the water. She was concerned when he annoyed an older Gronckle and got pushed away, but she didn't see any blood or skin tears, and soon enough he was bounding along at her heels on the way home.

"Sorry, Aurora needed to shed." Bryn said by way of a greeting as she entered the house. She scarfed a breakfast and helped her father with morning chores before heading out to meet up with Chief Astrid. Aurora had decided to tag along, jumping from left to right and examining new things and greeting the other village dragons, until he was tired and insisted on being carried. Bryn opened her coat and let him rest on her chest.

Astrid walked out of her house just as Bryn reached the corner where they lived. She smiled at Bryn and glanced down at her front, where Aurora had poked his nose out a gap between her coat buttons. "Who is this?" She asked, touching the tiny nose.

"Aurora," Bryn said, undoing her top few buttons to let the young dragon poke his head out and look at Astrid. "He's a silver phantom, the one I hatched at the ceremony a few days ago."

"He's beautiful." Astrid said, stroking his head gently. "Well. Shall we get going?" She said, and hardly waiting for Bryn, set off toward the forest. Bryn kept pace with her, her heart starting to beat faster with nerves about training.

"What are we doing first?" Bryn asked, trying to sound merely curious and not nervous at all.

"We're going to start on Hiccup's machine," Astrid said, "Because it would be better if you had all your strength and nerves while you're on it. We'll spend the afternoon in the treetops."

Bryn nodded, relieved that the inevitable would be delayed.

The machine was still difficult to balance on. Bryn would do well for a while, but every so often the artificial wind would pick up and after a certain point she inevitably flipped. Most times she could last for three cycles, with a record five cycles, but as noon approached she could hardly last two. Finally Astrid ended the drill and let Bryn take a break.

Bryn spent several minutes stretching after releasing Aurora from his tether. They hadn't wanted him accidentally getting caught in the moving machine. Bryn didn't think she was bruised, but landing on her side more than ten times left her feeling rather stiff. Aurora explored the machine as she stretched, sniffing it, pawing at crevices, examining the gears and ropes to satisfy his curiosity.

"Not a bad first day," Astrid said. "Hiccup tested this himself, and said it was harder than most rides. I tested it too, and I agree, although windy rides tend to be harder, and this is a good estimate of different kinds of windy day."

Bryn snorted. "Wonderful." She groaned, bending to touch her toes. Her spine cracked as she went. "How long do I have to stay on before I can ride?"

"Well, first you have to beat your fear. But this machine only has eight cycles of difficulty, and you made it to five at least once. If you can make it to six or seven on a regular basis you ought to be fine."

"Well, that's good." Bryn said, shaking out her limbs.

They had a quick, light meal, and then went out into the forest. Astrid picked out a tall, easily climbable tree then handed Bryn a pen, inkbottle, and a sheet of paper. "I want you to climb up as high as you can manage, and don't come down until you've drawn something you can only see from up there." She said, suddenly much more gruff than she'd been in the morning. Bryn hopped to it. She folded the paper and ticked it into her belt, then the inkbottle and pen went into her belt-pouch, and then she faced the tree. Her heart was starting to pound already, but she reached up to the first branch and swung herself up. She kept going, her eyes on the sky as much as possible, trying as hard as possible not to think about how high up she must be. She slipped a little and grabbed the trunk, looking down to find her footing.

Bryn froze, twenty feet up, though to her it looked a hundred. Her heart was racing, her knuckles went white as she hugged the trunk, there was a buzzing in her ears blocking out noise. She fought to look up, but though her head moved she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Faintly she heard Astrid calling to her, but it took several seconds to process the message.

"If you're stuck, sit there and draw from where you are!"

Bryn trembled, closing her eyes tight and making herself begin to crouch, balanced on the branch. She straddled it, still hugging the trunk, her arms getting scraped by the rough bark.

Bryn was still frozen in that position, but she turned her blind face upward and made herself open her eyes.

 _I can't possibly be so high up. Look how much trunk there is left! And here it was so thick and sturdy. I'm safe._ The argument sounded weak in her head, but it was enough to loosen her left arm's grip, and she shakily drew out the paper, then the pen, then positioned the inkbottle at the top of her belt-pouch. She looked around above her for something to sketch. Something she couldn't see on the ground.

After two minutes of thought, Bryn decided to simply sketch what she saw in front of her. Paper on her thigh, left hand around the trunk, right holding the pen, she shakily drew the edge of her trunk and the branches spiking out from it, then began adding in the trees behind it. They were crooked and poorly re-created, but she didn't stop until she'd filled the page with branches. She screwed the bottle's lid back on and tucked it into the pouch, and followed it with the pen. She held the paper in her free hand and blew it dry, then folded it back up and tucked it into her belt.

She took a deep breath and slowly, painfully, twisted her left leg over the branch, so she was hanging bent over the branch. She slowly lowered herself to the next branch, clinging to the trunk as she settled her weight onto it. She was panting and on the verge of freezing up, but she somehow managed to climb down. Shaking, she leaned against the tree, holding back tears, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Why was she crying? There was nothing to be sad about. Trembling, she held out the paper to Astrid, who took it and glanced at it.

"Are you alright?" She asked, concerned.

Bryn tried to say "fine", but her eyes started to water, so she shut her trap and nodded, taking deep, shuddering breaths.

"That was very well done. Do you need to go home, or can you do it again?"

Bryn gulped, finding her voice. She couldn't hide the lump in her throat, but spoke anyway. "I can do it again," she croaked out, "I'd just like a minute to catch my breath please."

Astrid laughed. "Would you feel better if I climbed up with you?" she asked.

Bryn shrugged. "Probably." She rasped. She stood straight, spent a few moments stroking Aurora, then looked up at the tree. "Let's go."

Climbing was easier with a partner. She felt embarrassed, but whenever Astrid held her steady or gave her a leg up, she felt more confident. When she froze up, Astrid peeled her fingers away from the branches and trunk and made her go higher until Astrid decided they could halt. She straddled a branch, Astrid helping to brace her up as she sketched a view of the treetops. Returning down was more difficult than climbing up, but easier with Astrid helping out. She was going faster than before and felt more confident with the Chief's help. When she returned to the ground, Aurora immediately clawed up to her shoulders, whining because he'd been alone so long. Bryn giggled as she sat down by the tree, gently stroking the silver phantom. He was looking more silver-y and less blue-purple now, she noticed.

"Now, I think, we're done for the day." Astrid said, brushing bits of bark off her clothes.

Something struck Bryn as they walked back, something she remembered from another conversation she'd had with Astrid. "Um, Chief Astrid?"

"Please, just Astrid," the older woman said, rolling her eyes. "It'll save so much time. With you, training, I'm not a chief." She sighed. "What's on your mind?"

"Sorry." Bryn said. "I just remembered, I forget when, but you said I reminded you of someone? I was just wondering who."

Astrid grinned a bit, then scratched her chin. "That's a long story." She said with a bit of a frown. "I'll tell you it some other time, when we have more time to talk."

"Okay. Thank you," Bryn said, emphasizing the last two words because Astrid had forbidden her from bowing and scraping. Then she departed for home, now very curious but not wanting to impose on the Chief.


	4. April 1 Special

"Mary Sue? What?" Bryn asked, staring at the Author.

"Look, in future chapters, you'll have more complex development. I'm just not a great author yet- that's why I'm here, because I'm practicing. I think maybe some people think you're a self-insert. I can't say there aren't parts of me in you, but you and I are really far from being the same. Though I'm having a hard time making you act young. And maybe you're a bit too lucky, but let me tell you, that's going to change." The Author laughed nervously.

"What? What do you mean? _What are you going to do?_ " Bryn looked scared.

The Author laughed their nervous laugh again. "It's going to be very good for you. It'll build character. I'm sorry I'm not good at beginnings, but you'll get to meet a lot of interesting new people."

"What happens? Do I lose limbs? Does somebody I love die? Do I fall in love? Do I become chief? Oh no- Mom doesn't find out I'm afraid of heights, does she? What about Tor? Please tell me he at least doesn't find out. He'll hate me! He wouldn't understand!"

The Author sweated a little. "Not all of those things happen. I'll tell you this, though- Tor won't find out you're afraid of heights."

"So Mom does? Aw, *bleep*."

"I never said that. She might, she might not. Let's see- you listed limb loss, death of a loved one, falling in love, becoming chief, Freya finding out, Tor finding out. Of that list, only two of those things will definitely happen and you know the last one definitely won't. The other ones might or might not happen, I haven't decided this yet. I write these the dame day I post them, you know, but I spend the week thinking about what's up next."

"Oh Gods, you're more vindictive than Odin." Bryn said, burying her face in her hands.

"No, Odin's vindictive because he likes it. I'm trying to write a story with serious conflict."

"That seems somehow worse, at least for me, since I'm your main character."

"At least I put you in a family that doesn't believe in the anti-troll naming convention."

Bryn thought for a moment. "Well, I do appreciate that. I like being named _Warrior_."

"Although in retrospect that may have been a mistake," the Author pondered.

"No! No, that was a good decision." Bryn said, panicking a little bit.

"If you say so." The Author replied with a shrug.

"Do I ever get over my fear of heights?" Bryn asked hopefully.

"Well, I'm not sure. It depends on a lot of factors, but as the story progresses it will become less important to you. Right now, it matters because it's your main obstacle, but more will arise that will put that fear in perspective, though your training has set you firmly on the path to living past that."

Bryn frowned, turning this statement over in her mind. "This is making me rather nervous," she said concernedly.

"Well, you'll grow as a person and become great in your own right." the Author assured her. "Now, back in the portal." The Author wrote Bryn back through the rippling hole in time and space, which closed behind her, locking her in the story until April 1 2018.

The Author turned to the audience. "As of this writing, nobody's read beyond the first chapter, which kind of makes me sad, though I know I'm bad at beginnings. I hope whoever makes it this far will forgive me. I love any and all constructive criticism, though I hate trolls and unnecessarily negative people. Thank you for reading, if you get this far, and I hope this becomes more successful. I'll keep writing no matter what, even if nobody but me ever knows where this story goes. I love being admired, but this story is also for me, to practice writing and finish a story I love creating."

~Thank you for reading~


	5. Rapid Shifts

_A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. I got sick this weekend, procrastinated on my work, so this is what I have. It's more or less a complete chapter on its own, but much shorter than I'm normally happy with, and I didn't edit it at all. I hope to do better next week._

Training made time fly by. Days passed in a blink, weeks in a breath, months before she knew it. Hail and rain and snow came and went and she hardly noticed. She grew fast, her body hardened with muscle, and tree-climbing became second nature. She trained to fight with a sword with the older warriors Astrid hung out with- Snotlout, Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, whoever was there, and she got good.

Aurora was growing even faster. He was soon several feet long, and too large to curl around her shoulders anymore. He had learned to fly and now lived on a perch in the Hatchery, and accompanied Bryn on her tree-climbing tours. They were experts at reading the other's emotions, so when Bryn seemed close to freezing up he crawled close to support her, and when he was sad or angry Bryn was there for him. He wasn't yet large or strong enough to ride safely with regularity, but Bryn encouraged him to take daily flights, which he enjoyed greatly, zooming nearly out of sight, floating in the clouds, nearly invisibly, darting around, diving into the water to catch fish, whatever he liked.

One year after their training had begun, Astrid took Bryn down a different path, back to the bluffs of the first training day. There, Astrid's own Stormfly, Lintsocks, and Cirrus waited. Seeing them approach, Lintsocks gave a cheerful little salute and departed.

Astrid mounted Stormfly, and, hesitantly, Bryn mounted Cirrus. This time, though, Bryn felt more comfortable in the saddle. It wasn't the same shape as the dummy, but she found her balance immediately and settled low in the saddle.

"Ready?" Astrid asked. Bryn's heart raced, and she felt nervous, but she nodded regardless. She had to try.

Aurora nudged Bryn, then backed away as Cirrus spread his two upper wings. Stormfly went up first, then Cirrus followed, and Aurora tailed them.

Bryn was short of breath. This was nothing like being in a tree. Cirrus rose and fell with each wingbeat, worse than any wind in the treetops, but it was much easier to stay in the saddle than to cling to a tree branch. She managed not to scream as he dove down, but only barely. She had a death grip on the saddle that hurt her fingers but she couldn't relax it. Cirrus swooped after Stormfly, and Bryn dared to look around. Aurora caught her eye and trilled a greeting to her. She laughed, and during a long, flat section, she dared to sit up and enjoy the wind rushing by her face. This was wonderful, this was better than watching eggs hatch, this was better than feeling a dragonet take off from her arm for the first time and watch it take its first wobbly flight. Cirrus glanced back at her and looked quite happy, and Bryn was actually disappointed when they came in to land.

Bryn jumped off Cirrus, the proximity to the cliff still making her quite uncomfortable. She bowed to the stormcutter. "Thank you, Cirrus. That was wonderful." She said, patting his great horned head. She hard Aurora snort, and she turned to greet the silvery dragon. "You'll get a change one day." She promised the yearling, giving his neck a light hug. "I'm sure of it."

"So, not so bad?" Astrid asked, jumping down from Stormfly and approaching Bryn.

Bryn shook her head, then, after a moment's thought, said, "I know you don't like the formality most times, but really, it's been an _honor_." Bryn bowed at the last word, meaning it sincerely. " _Thank you_."

"Oh please, it was really nothing." Astrid said graciously. "You needed exactly the kind of help we could provide, and we needed someone to test the machine and how effective it was. Now we'll start training youngsters on it, and hopefully that'll mean fewer accidents in the first month of training. In fact, would you like to help, since you know the machine so well by now?"

Bryn glowed. "I would love to." She said excitedly.

"Excellent! You won't do all the classes, just one age group. Lintsocks, Hiccup, Gobber, and I will also take a class each."

"Is Gobber up for it?" Bryn asked concernedly, considering the Belch's age with skepticism.

"It's not so strenuous as what Lintsocks does, and he misses training kids." Astrid said with a shrug. "Which reminds me of something you asked me once… or twice… maybe just a few times." The Chief grinned down at Bryn, who blushed.

"Sorry, I was just really curious," Bryn muttered, "and I thought if there was someone like me it might be good to meet them in case I could learn something from them."

"Well, this kid, he was more like you in spirit than in specifics." Astrid explained. Bryn was watching her with round eyes, wondering if Astrid was finally going to tell her this story.

"Let's sit down, kid." Astrid said, indicating a large boulder set well back from the cliff. Bryn walked to it and sat down, looking up at Astrid with visible excitement.

"Calm down, it's not a fantastic story, I just think now is the right time to tell you. So, this all started back when we still killed dragons instead of riding them. I know, crazy, right? But it made sense to us at the time.

"Anyway, this kid, he was kind of an oddball loner, but he had a kind of affinity with dragons. First one he ever met, one-on-one, he befriended. He never killed a single dragon in his life, actually. But that wasn't something to be proud of, then. But he practiced in secret until he was able to show us that dragons weren't so bad and could make our lives a whole lot better. See, you and he are similar, because you're different. You were happy living among just your family and your dragons, and when you started to train, you failed. But you worked in secret to make something better, and I like that neither you nor Hiccup stopped fighting to get better." Bryn was glowing with pride.

"But there's a difference. Hiccup confronted his family— well, he only had his father. But he confronted everyone with their prejudice and got them on his side. Bryn, have you told anyone what was really going on here?"

Bryn looked at the ground. "I told my dad. He knew I was scared of heights already and I told him about the machine and the trees."

"What about your mother, and your brother?" Astrid prodded.

Bryn looked away. "No, I didn't, but I don't see why I need to."

"Bryn, keeping secrets doesn't help anyone." Astrid reprimanded. "Your family will still love you, and if anything they should be proud of you for beating your fear."

Bryn was silent. "I'll think about it."

Astrid nodded. "I won't make you do it, but you should. Keeping this secret can only divide you from your mother and brother."

Bryn's mouth twisted, but she nodded anyway.

"So ends our training. Lintsocks will still be happy to lend you Cirrus, so you can practice flying for real and keep up your training until Aurora is big enough for a saddle. It's been good, but you don't need me anymore."

"Thank you, Chief Astrid." Bryn said, bowing her head. For the first time in ages, Astrid didn't protest. She flew off with Stormfly, Cirrus trailing behind them, and Bryn went for a walk with Aurora.

"She thinks I'm a fighter like Hiccup." Bryn said first, as they wandered the deep-forest trails. "But Hiccup had to reveal his secret, or all dragonkind would have suffered. Me, my secret doesn't really matter that much. Why should I need to tell Mom what the real deal was? It's true I was getting special training from Astrid. Does it matter why?"

Aurora gave his you're-being-stupid snort. Bryn frowned at him. "It can't possibly hurt her. I'll say she wanted to teach me because— um— let's say I was never clear on the matter. Something about talent, or maybe she just took a liking to me. But now I've moved to a stage where I just need to practice on my own before joining up on the regular patrols. And she'll be really pleased I was offered a teaching spot. That's honorable!"

Aurora shook his head and stuck his tongue out. "Oh, what do you know?" Bryn muttered resentfully, turning homeward.

Bryn waited until dinner to talk to her mother. It came up naturally, as each of them said something about their day. "And you, Bryn?" Freya asked.

"Well, a couple things. Chief Astrid's training with me finished today, I mean, I'm not on the patrol roster yet but she says all I need is some practice. And, and—" she tried hard to say everything, but failed, and instead she covered by saying something else. "—and she offered me a teaching job. See, there's this machine that Chief Hiccup built, so younger people can train in the saddle before getting on a dragon. It's supposed to decrease how often people fall on the first day, and I have to say it really works. I was training on it a lot before Chief Astrid would let me back on a dragon, and it was much, much easier after that. And since I've used it most, Astrid thought at least for the time being I should be one of the people teaching younger kids to use it." Bryn smiled a little.

"Wow!" Tor said, awed. "Will you teach me?"

"I don't know, we'll find out." Bryn said.


	6. Fighting Back

Bryn settled Aurora in his favorite corner of the training hut, stroking his head to calm her nerves as her first class came in.

Chief Astrid had emphatically refused to let Bryn teach her brother, mentioning a variety of good reasons including scheduling, the Hatchery, and potential favoritism. Bryn had been fine not teaching him, but when she'd broken the news to Tor he seemed to deflate a bit, at which she promised to take him riding on Aurora right after her first proper area patrol. Sure, it wouldn't be for another year at least- Aurora was still not large or strong enough yet- but it would be at least three years before Tor even got his own hatchling.

She watched the gathering class out of the corner of her eye. She had the second-youngest group, all eight-year-olds. She recognized a couple of them as friends of Torbjorn's, but most were unfamiliar to her. One kept smirking at her and whispering to his friend, and something about his face was familiar, but she couldn't place it. She didn't think he was a friend of Tor's, but she felt like she should recognize that face framed in dirty-blonde curls.

She set the thought aside as she turned to face her small class. Almost at once the conversation died down, and instinctively she knew her next words would establish just what kind of relationship she'd have as these kids' teacher. It was monumentally important she not mess up right now—

"Hi kids! Welcome to dragon training!" Her idiot mouth said before her brain could stop her. She felt a little hot in the face as the blonde boy sneered. Most of the class looked dully back, unimpressed. She sighed internally.

"Sorry." She muttered briefly. "So. This machine, I would like to impress upon you, can be dangerous. It is, however, great at teaching you how to fly on a dragon even in extreme circumstanc— yes, uh, could you say your name?" She said, as the blonde put up his hand.

"If it's so helpful, why's nobody ever used it before?" He asked challengingly.

"Chief Hiccup only invented it a year ago, and we only finished testing its usefulness a few days ago. You didn't tell me your name." Bryn said, fixing him with a steady but hopefully not stern gaze.

"I'm Limpet, and _my_ family are the best fliers on Berk. So if my family didn't test it, how do we know it's really good?"

It clicked. This little twerp was related to Deadworm. Bryn didn't smile, and her gaze became more intense as she stared down her new least-favorite student. "I hope you're not implying that your family can out-fly Chief Hiccup and Toothless. Perhaps you're a bit young to know the word "treason" but nobody out-flies the Chief. As for this machine's effectiveness, I believe I mentioned it was built by Chief Hiccup himself. You would not be here if it did not work well enough to teach young kids like you on, and it would not exist anymore if it did not work at all. Now be quiet, Limpet, and let me talk."

Brynjar took a breath, calming her temper momentarily. "This machine can be dangerous, but I assure you that if you follow my instructions you will be safe and, in a few short years, more ready to learn to fly on real dragons than any previous generation. I need a volunteer to help me demonstrate how it works—"

A couple hands shot up right away, a couple were slower in coming, and several remained down altogether. Among the fastest were Limpet and a kid she recognized as a friend of Tor's. Instead she chose a slower-coming hand, of a boy she didn't know at all, who introduced himself as Yuri.

As she was directing Yuri into the saddle, the door opened and Chief Hiccup himself appeared. Bryn managed not to jump, but bowed to him respectfully.

"To what do we owe—" she began, but Hiccup was waving off the pleasantries in his affable, friendly manner

"I'm only here to drop off Stoick. He was meant to be in your class but mysteriously vanished this morning…" Hiccup gave his son a gentle push forward, seeming half-amused and half-annoyed at the brunette boy.

"Oh— Okay—" Bryn stammered as Hiccup exited. She cleared her throat. "Well, welcome, Stoick. Um, this is the machine your father built, it's very dangerous if used incorrectly so it's important to listen to me, and Yuri here is going to help me demonstrate how to use it."

The boy nodded tightly, his lips pursed, and Bryn was disappointed; she didn't want to be disliked by the chief's son or any of her students, and since he was both it was double-bad, but she pushed it aside for the lesson.

"Alright. Yuri, grip here, lean forward. You're going to be lifted off the ground and blasted with air, just try to balance and it's okay to fall off or ask to stop." She spoke loudly enough for the rest of the class to hear, but not loudly enough it was clear that that was on purpose. She straightened and turned to the class. "This machine is easy to fall off of, and increases in difficulty the longer you stay on, so if I hear one person teasing anyone who falls off, or laughing, there will be consequences."

She spaced the watching class so everyone could see and nobody would be blasted by air, then went to the controls. "Ready, Yuri?" She asked, giving him an encouraging smile. He smiled back, not visibly nervous at all, and nodded. Bryn began working the levers, and Yuri's eyes widened suddenly.

Yuri wobbled more and more as the machinery cycled, and lasted only three cycles before flipping. Bryn shut off the wind immediately and waited for Yuri to stand away fromt eh machine before lowering the dummy back to the floor. "Well done, Yuri." She complimented him. "That was a very good first run, I'm impressed. You didn't hurt yourself when you fell?" She asked, suddenly concerned.

Yuri shook his head as he went back to the rest of the class. It occurred to Bryn that she ought to teach them a few combat techniques, since much of the class would be standing around most of the time.

"Before anyone else goes," Bryn decided, "I'm teaching you all how to fall without hurting yourselves."

"What." She heard Limpet say, but she ignored him.

"When you learn to fight, this will be a vital skill. It's all-around useful to know, especially on this machine. Now, gather in a circle and watch me." Bryn waited for the class to gather close, leaving enough space in front of her for her to fall without hitting anybody. She held up her arms, bent at the elbows so her hands were at her shoulders. "You want to try to take the fall on the flat parts of your arms, so you're as spread-out as possible, like so." As she had been taught by Astrid's friends, she toppled forward deliberately and smacked the padded floor, hands slapping the ground and her face sideways to avoid breaking her nose. She stung a little, but immediately sprang back to her feet. "Everyone spread out and give it a couple tries."

The class obeyed, Limpet and a couple others looking grumpy, several looking confused, and a couple, including Stoick, looking vaguely interested. Most managed to take the fall properly, and from this group Bryn chose a girl who said her name was Cockroach, to go next. Roach lasted two cycles and fell, and was followed by another student, and another. The room was an odd sight; the students who weren't on the dummy were spaced between the vents and toppling over, over and over again, smacking the ground loudly, but not painfully— if they were doing it right. Bryn was pleased to see they were getting it better and better. She went around the room one by one. The longest anyone stayed on was three cycles, including Limpet, who looked distinctly annoyed as he dusted himself off. Stoick, on his turn, looked very nervous, and only barely lasted into the second cycle before slipping sideways into the ground. He didn't seem annoyed or disappointed or even resigned. Bryn couldn't read his expression fully, but he was clearly suppressing some emotion.

Bryn had no time to ponder as she went around the room again, then glanced out the window to check the position of the sun. She winced, realizing how late it was getting, and finished the round before shutting down the machine and dismissing the class. She sighed, relieved it was over. She wouldn't have to worry about it for another two days.

She felt a tug at her tunic. "Miss Ottars-Freyasdottir?" She heard a small boy's voice ask nervously. She turned to see Stoick Hofferson-Haddock II looking up at her, his eyes nervous and pleading.

"It's Bryn." She said gently, trying very hard not to show her own nerves. "What's the matter?"

Stoick sighed, scratching his wrist in a show of nerves. "Daddy and Mommy told me I was supposed to talk to you about something." He muttered, looking around at the empty building to double-check it was empty.

"Of course. Come sit over here." Bryn said, moving over to the dummy and using it like a bench, patting the space beside her. Stoick sat down next to her, looking really uncertain.

"I'm worried I have to be as good as Daddy and Mom." He burst out suddenly, his arms folded over his belly. He looked rather queasy.

"Of course you don't. You're not them." Bryn answered immediately.

"But everyone expects me to be that good! They're the chiefs! Mom has all these great warrior ancestors and Dad comes from a huge long line of chiefs! And I know he's all different from his dad and his dad's dad and everything but he was still great- he IS still great at everything, and I'm not even as good as Limpet." It sounded like he'd been waiting to say all this for a while.

Bryn thought for a while. "Well," she said slowly, "you shouldn't listen so much to what you're expected to be. Just, just try to do what you want to do."

"I don't know what I want to do. Everyone else I know wants to _be_ something, but I, I don't know what I _want_ to be because I _have_ to grow up and be chief."

Bryn considered this. "Well- there's a lot that could happen between now and then. No, listen to me, " she said, cutting off his next argument. "The future almost never happens the way we think it will. Now it's true that _usually_ the next chief is chosen by heredity- by, by who's the chief's son, but it isn't always. And you're still very young, you have your whole life ahead of you to figure out what you love to do. Now what I'm going to tell you next will sound very strange, but I promise you it's important."

Stoick looked up at Bryn curiously.

"You said you weren't as good as the other kids in class. But are you as good as _you_ are?"

Stoick looked confused. Bryn had expected it and kept talking, repeating a speech her father had given her when she'd told him she didn't want to be a dragon-rider like Mom because she was scared of heights and couldn't ever be as good.

"So you have powerful and great parents. People will expect greatness from you no matter what. People rarely take the time to treat everyone as an individual; it's not unexpected. If you'd been born to more average parents, you'd be expected to be average. People will always expect something from you based on what they think of your family, the way you look, the first thing they heard you say. Most of the time it means nothing. Today was only the first lesson, and you have so much time to work out what you want to do and how to get good at it. When I ask you if you're as good as _you_ are, I'm asking if you are thinking about the image other people have of you, or if you're thinking about how good you are in comparison to how you did before."

Stoick was silent, processing this, then shook his head. "I'll _try_ to ignore what other people expect, but it's so hard."

"It gets easier." Bryn assured him. "And when you've started working at being good at what you like, people will see you more for you and less for your parents. And anyway, a lot of what you imagine people think isn't actually what they think."

Stoick smiled. "How do you know?"

"Have you not heard of Freya Tyrs-Skadisdottir?" Stoick nodded, eyes wide. "Well, I always thought everyone would expect me to be as good as Mom, but actually it was just people trying to encourage me when I was younger. Sure, there are people who really think I should be at least as good as her, but there are many people who are smarter than that and have judged me by what they have seen of me, however little." Bryn had no idea if what she had just said was true, but Stoick needed to hear that he could be whatever he wanted to be.

"Thank you, Miss Bryn." Stoick said, surprising her with a hug around the middle.

"Of course." Bryn said as he released her. "And it's just Bryn. If there's anything else you're worried about, don't hesitate to come talk to me." She added. It wasn't part of her job, but she was taking a liking to the little guy.

Stoick smiled and jumped to his feet, trotting away down the path back to the main village.

Bryn sighed, her face in her hands. Overall, nothing catastrophic had happened during that first lesson, but it could've gone better. Stoick seemed scared to be there, Limpet seemed ready to fight her, and the rest would likely end up feeling ignored.

Aurora nosed is head under her hand, and she started scratching behind his skull the way he liked, thinking.

"Do you think I could get Limpet to like me?" She wondered aloud, ostensibly asking the dragon. She glanced down at him, but his yellow eyes were half-lidded and he clearly wasn't paying attention. Not that he could have responded, but sometimes he made his opinion on things known. She sighed, her mind drifting. Then she giggled, and Aurora looked up at her, eyes still half-lidded but curious.

"Oh, it's not really that funny," Bryn said, "but Astrid said I'm like Hiccup. Well, Hiccup made it so we're all friends with dragons, right? Well, right now, Deadworm and her friends are bullies, but I now have the chance to be friends with her little brother." She giggled. "Imagine how Deadworm would react!"

Aurora closed his eyes as her hand reached his favorite spot, and he collapsed, sighing happily, his claws twitching in a satisfied way.

"Come on, Aurora, time to go home." Bryn said, standing up and strolling over to the door. "We've got to plan how to handle this."

Aurora gave a growl that Bryn correctly interpreted as a groan. "Come on, Lazybones, you've done nothing but sit around today. If you get up soon you'll still be able to fly while it's warm out."

Grudgingly, the ice-like dragon rolled to his paws and followed Bryn towards the village. Halfway down, they both broke into a run, racing each other to the first house of the village. Aurora could have beat Bryn easily, but he just stayed a little ahead of her to make her run faster.

"You jerk," Bryn gasped out, panting and bent over, catching her breath before they went home.

"Hey, jerkface!" An all-too-familiar voice called out to her. Deadworm was sauntering over. Bryn straightened and began to walk away, Aurora close at her side.

"Hey, buttwipe," Deadworm said, less loudly now that she was walking alongside Bryn. Bryn continued to ignore her until Deadworm shoved her, forcing her to trip over Aurora so she ended up on the ground. Though she only had a year of battle training, Bryn was able to instantly roll back to her feet— she was used to opponents much bigger and better than Deadworm. Her hand was at her belt where her practice sword was in practice, but found only her dagger. Without thinking she pulled it out and waited for Deadworm's next move.

Deadworm had flinched back, not expecting this to escalate. "Woah, calm down, crazyface. I'm just here to tell you, you mess with m little bro, you deal with me, right?"

"Just try." Bryn spat back, very pissed off and struggling to control herself. Deadworm pulled out her own knife and they engaged. Bryn had clearly better technique, but wasn't good enough to avoid getting shoved over, this time over Deadworm's Monstrous Nightmare. A twist from the larger girl's knife, and Bryn released her own dagger, clutching her bleeding hand.

"If I hear anything from Limpet, you're dead meat, you stuck-up spit-rag." Said Deadworm, holding up her knife threateningly. Bryn glared back silently until Deadworm released her and walked away.

Aurora raced over to her and began sniffing her hand, tentatively licking it. Bryn briefly scratched his head with her good hand, and picked up her fallen dagger and re-sheathed it with the same hand. She tightened her damaged hand into a fist, hoping the pressure would help keep the bleeding down until she could bandage it. "Let's go, Aurora." She said tightly, starting briskly down the high street in the direction of her home.

"Bryn! How was your first…" Ottar greeted her, trailing off at her expression. "What's happened?"

"The lesson was good, but I accidentally cut my hand. Where are the bandages?" She said stiffly, showing her red-decorated clenched fist.

"In the tackroom, come on." Ottar said, and the two of them went out to the hatchery, into the small side-room, which contained the saddles of the few adult dragons they kept, various veterinary medicines in one locked cupboard, and human medicine in another locked cupboard. Ottar handed Bryn bandages and used a cloth to gently wipe around the cut. Bryn self-applied the bandages expertly— cuts were common in the hatchery— then Ottar cut off the length and returned the roll as Bryn fixed the bandage in place.

"That looked like a knife-cut, Bryn. What happened?" Ottar asked, watching her closely. Bryn didn't look at her father.

"I fell down and hit a sharp rock dad, that's all." Bryn muttered, turning away and walking back to the house. She didn't know if Ottar would believe her, but she was positive he wouldn't question her on something she clearly didn't want to talk about.

Suddenly, Bryn was hit in the back by something that, once again, made her fall over. She didn't dare roll over onto her small attacker, because on her way down she heard the squeal that meant Tor was simply greeting her return home.

"Tor, if you keep me pinned, I can't hug you back," Bryn said, voice muffled through her sleeve.

"Slimy said you were going to teach your class how to fight! How come you aren't teaching _me_?" Tor complained, crawling up to her shoulders and lying down on top of her.

"Because you're holding me down on the ground and making it impossible." Bryn said.

"Come on, you could get up if you wanted to. You've given me sheep-back rides before." Tor complained.

"Nope. You've defeated me. I can't get up." Bryn said, stretching her limbs out and lying limply.

"No! Bryn, get up!" Tor said, getting off of her and tugging at her arm. Aurora, who had been waiting by the door, saw this and darted over, using his long, strong neck to help Tor pull her to her feet. Bryn scratched his head, letting him know she wasn't really hurt, then dusted herself off onto Tor.

"ACK! Bryn!" Tor whined, wiping his now-dusty hands all over her tunic.

"What? Stop wiping your filthy paws all over me!" Bryn retorted, grinning and pushing his hands away.

"Teach me to fight!" Tor said eagerly.

"Okay, but we're doing it right. First you have to learn how to fall, because if you don't know how to fall you can't learn to fight without hurting yourself." Bryn said.

"Really?" Tor asked, looking hesitant and disbelieving.

"Really. It's the first thing Chief Astrid taught me." Bryn said, which wasn't strictly true, but it had occurred to the chief that there was some danger in going up in the trees, and she'd taught Bryn how to fall with minimal injury.

"Okay. How do we do it?"

And so Bryn set about teaching her little brother the first parts of hand-to-hand fighting.


	7. Open Secrets

Bryn spent the next few days, when she wasn't teaching, mulling over how best to win over Limpet. Should she treat him specially? Well, obviously, but the question was how to do that in a way that didn't make the others jealous, and in a way that was unambiguously nice. She couldn't make him try new things first every time, other kids would notice and he might think she was trying to make him screw up. She decided she sometimes would put him first, though, and maybe more often that the other kids, just because it might feed his ego in the right way. She immediately rejected the idea of only complimenting his work, since that would prevent him from improving on errors he didn't see, which would be worse. And by now Deadworm was probably talking her down. If only she knew exactly what that girl was saying, so she could act counter to it- but she wasn't good at sneaking around in daylight, especially around strangers whose habits she didn't know, and she certainly considered most of that family strangers. She considered offering him extra lessons on the side, private lessons to help him get better faster, but she decided that should be a fallback plan; so far it would be hard to justify offering it to him and not any others.

By the time the next lesson rolled around, the best thing she had come up with was being particularly nice to him and his friends. Perhaps, this soon, his closest friends would not have heard what Deadworm was probably saying about her yet and might be winnable. With his friends' peer pressure, hopefully winning him over wouldn't be so tough.

Rain pounded the roof as they practiced, and the students got slowly damper as the vents pushed freshly-misted rain at the machine. After the first round, Bryn gave up and decided to teach everyone a basic throw. She left them to it and dashed back to town. At her house, she borrowed a large pot, some older red wine, spices, honey, and as many tankards and drinking vessels as would fit inside of the pot, leaving without explanation and dashing back through the rain to her class. Inside the shed she heard the sound of voices that hushed quickly but took no notice. She pulled open the door and stepped inside—

—and immediately fell over, mugs spilling out of the pot, though she managed to keep it more or less upright. She heard laughter, though not a lot, and as she picked herself up she found small hands helping to put the spilled items back into the pot. Stoick, she noticed, was among the first to help, his face red and angry. She glanced around and, to her dismay but unsurprisingly, Limpet and his cronies were doing a lot of the laughing. Once everything was gathered back up and the students were clearly waiting for her reaction, she managed to start laughing, and the more she laughed the easier it was. She made herself stop when she realized she was the only one laughing.

"Okay, I probably looked pretty funny." She said, since every student was now giving her a puzzled look. "But, since it's so miserable out and I made you all get wet, I brought some stuff to make Gløgg. If everyone helps dig a firepit under the overhang and gather firewood, we can have some in half an hour or so."

The class seemed generally excited at this prospect. Stoick still looked puzzled but rather relieved as he went off to collect dead limbs. They'd be damp, but Aurora was with them so it wouldn't be a huge issue. Several others scattered into the woods as Yuri, and a girl she hadn't learned the name of yet started digging a pit. Roach and two of her friends went to a nearby river went to gather stones to encircle the pit and help contain the blaze. Limpet and his crew didn't immediately set to work.

Bryn stared at them, sizing up how best to be friendly and in charge. "Would you guys be so kind as to help out? I'm sure we're going to need more wood, or if a couple of you lent your hands to the digging it would go faster." She said, settling down under the overhang by the future firepit to sort ingredients and start mixing.

Limpet watched her for a minute, then said, "How do you plan to heat the pot with nothing holding it above the fire?"

"Well, what we're gonna do is put the wood around the pot. Unless you know someone that has a portable rack? That would be easier." Bryn asked sincerely. Limpet shook his head. "In that case, do you mind helping out? It really would go faster, and everyone else is lending a hand."

" _You_ aren't." One of Limpet's buddies piped up.

"I _am_." Bryn replied. "I'm prepping the mix, and once that's done I'm going to arrange the fire and do all the cooking. Unless something's not been cone properly, in which case I'll help out with that. But that might not be necessary if you help us all out."

"Come on, let's just go get wood." Limpet said, turning away.

Twenty minutes on, the pot was the center of a crackling fire. Bryn had set Stoick and Roach to watch for any sign that something outside the stone circle was catching, especially the building. She was using a ladle to stir it, and when it looked almost ready she asked the two strongest-looking students to bring over a large piece of slate. Roach and her friends had thought it would be a good base for the firepit, but it was too large for the size of hole that had been dug and had proved very hard to break. When it was ready, Aurora pulled the pot out of the fire and onto the rock, and Bryn started ladling out drinks. A horn each to the two very helpful fire-watchmen, then tankards to Limpet and his crew— though Bryn claimed the order was random— and an assortment of drinking vessels to the rest of the class. Bryn gave herself a ladleful last, and left the remainder to Aurora. She had been very careful to measure the same amount of liquid into the hodgepodge of different-sized skins, horns, and tankards, and nobody seemed to be complaining about getting less than a neighbor. Together, huddled close to the wall around the dying fire, Aurora in the middle with his head inside the pot, they chattered and watched the gloomy pounding rain.

When everyone had finished, and the fire had died town, Bryn collected Roach and Stoick's horns and took the class ot the nearby river. They cleaned their varied vessels and filled them with water. Bryn would have preferred to put out the fire with a shovel, but the closest things were Aurora's claws and she didn't want to risk them with direct contact with fire. Sure, he was fireproof, but even knowing that she felt it could hurt him to start just digging through embers. So, carefully she walked the class through safe extinguishment. A few people poured their water in the pit, making the white ashes hiss and sizzle. Aurora turned the ashes and mud a few times. Another third of the class emptied their water-filled drinking vessels into the pit, and Aurora turned the earth and ashes again, digging even deeper to find the cool earth under the hot ashy mud. Rinse and repeat with the remaining students, and then Bryn poured the water from the pot into the firepit. As Aurora turned the earth one last time, Bryn collected the empty vessels into the pot, then added the leftover Gløgg ingredients on top. Even Limpet looked like the hot, spicy drink had warmed him up a bit.

Bryn dismissed the class, feeling better about her chances with the potentially wayward Limpet, and watched the firepit for an extra half hour just to be absolutely certain there were no stray and potentially devastating sparks. Even in the rain, the training hut could burn down, or a nearby tree could catch and burn internally until the rain stopped enough for it to burn to the next tree and the next— well, perhaps she was being paranoid, but there were plenty of pre-Hiccup fire stories still being passed around town to drill in instincts for fire safety deep into every young Berkian heart.

The rain had begun to lessen by the time Bryn and Aurora set off back to the village. Once again, on the way home, Deadworm crossed her path. This time, Bryn didn't bother ignoring her and turned to the larger girl with a stony expression, the pot resting on her hip. "And what did I do wrongly today?" She asked bluntly.

"Are you trying to make him soft or something?" Deadworm snarled. Bryn set down the pot on the ground to keep it out of harm's way, then straightened up, subtly shifting her feet to a better fighting stance.

"If all you heard about was the Gløgg, clearly you weren't listening when he told you about the new throw I taught him."

"You laughed at him!"

"He pulled a funny, if simplistic, prank on me." Bryn's voice was cool as she shut down each of Deadworm's arguments.

"You made him do drudge work."

"Everyone helped out to make the Gløgg."

"Then you weren't teaching him!"

"If I had put them on the machine all lesson they would have caught cold, and as I mentioned before I taught them a throw. Would you like me to demonstrate?" Bryn held up her hands, open, in the starting pose of the throw.

Bryn saw the blows coming from a mile away and caught Deadworm's wrists, forcing her hands down. It was tough, but she was able to then shove the other girl away. "I know you don't like me. But please don't waste time unless I've actually done something."

Bryn walked on for several feet until she heard an inarticulate yell from behind. Instinctively she threw herself into the mud, letting the pot go and rolling over to catch Deadworm's attack with a sharp kick to the belly. Deadworm collapsed, gasping, and Bryn picked herself up. She saw Limpet dashing up, looking white, and groaned internally.

"Limpet, I'm sorry, she attacked me—" she began to apologize, since none of this was _his_ fault—

"No, it's okay, I saw, but will she be okay?" Limpet said, hesitantly hugging his gasping sister.

"She won't listen to me, but she'll catch her breath faster if she puts her arms up and sits up straight. Other than that, there'll just be some bruising. Listen, I really have to go, but you did a great job today. I'll see you in a few." With that, Bryn departed, leaving Limpet to convince his sister to put her arms up, or at least get up and come home. She heard Deadworm's gasping yell as she turned the corner, but couldn't make out the words and didn't bother trying to listen.

Bryn felt fairly pleased with herself, even though her father scolded her a bit for taking all those things without even so much as a 'hello', much less any kind of explanation, and even though she had to go clean the pot up outside again because of all the mud on it. Then, soaked to the skin and still half-covered in mud, she fulfilled her duties in the hatchery and taught her equally soaked brother the first two punches she'd ever been taught. Thoroughly exhausted, she ate dinner silently but with a pleasant expression and went straight to bed.

Elsewhere on Berk, wild dragons were restless and refusing to settle down. New parents, with eggs that had yet to hatch, began building second nests farther from Berk. A few dragons left outright— Eruptodons, Gronckles, mostly Boulder Class dragons; but so many dragons now lived on and around Berk, their departure went almost entirely unnoticed. The tame dragons showed no sign of unrest, but every dragon sensed the tiny vibrations going through the ground.

On Berk's nearest neighbor, an enormous dragon, that looked as if it had a forest on its back, slipped off its perch and left for a new home.

As soon as the Foreverwing took off, the dragons of Berk settled down again, though those in the caves did not sleep well.


	8. Split-Second Difference

_A/N: On one hand, yay, posting early for once! However, I have an important message for readers._

 _This chapter is one of the main reasons I rated this "T". It contains reference to some potentially triggering material. It contains no explicit mention of the crime in question, and neither will the next chapter, but an event in this chapter is not suitable for younger readers. Younger readers will not comprehend it, they will not understand the language I use to describe it, it pertains to things they should not have to be exposed to because they have not physically developed the psychological capability to understand it. If you would rather not hear about this crime, which is perfectly understandable, please skip the next two chapters._

 _At the start of chapter 10 I will include a brief, child-friendly summary of events referring only to this particular part of the plot as "a crime" with no specifics as to what that crime might be._

One whole day sailed by without serious incident. Bryn was cheerful, feeling fulfilled, happy. In the morning, she took Aurora to get fitted with a temporary saddle. He wasn't done growing by a long shot, but he was old enough that she needed to start riding him now and again.

The tanner's assistant was one of the students from Bryn's flight class— the one she had left after one day. They made small talk, he mentioned how Deadworm talked about her behind her back. Bryn shrugged this obvious information off, and was cheered when he said only Deadworm's friends had really cared or paid attention.

The saddle was soon properly sized, Bryn paid up, and the assistant, a muscly brunette named Ichor, told her to return in a few weeks to check the sizing again. Then Aurora and Bryn were on their way, Aurora wearing the saddle to get used to it before she tried flying on him.

Bryn helped her father show off an older Shovelhelm, a baby Gronckle, and an adolescent Razorwhip to a couple potential buyers. Eventually they sold the Shovelhelm and the Razorwhip. Ottar went about his own chores while Bryn departed with Aurora, up to her room, out the window— a tight fit for the growing dragon, though he managed— and onto the hatchery roof. Slowly, so as not to harm or surprise him, but deliberately, so he wouldn't shy away, she settled on his shoulders. Her left foot found the stirrup as he shifted, his thin neck twisting to look at her with a quizzical eye. She patted him reassuringly, projecting as much confidence as she could muster. Truth be told, her heart was hammering in her chest and it was all she could do to keep her nervously loud breaths even, but regardless, she said in as steady a voice as she could summon, "Go on, Aurora, let's go flying."

She heard and sensed rather than saw the diamond-lobed, silver-grey wings flare out on either side of her. She leaned forward as his neck stretched, shimmering in the sun. There was a rush of wind and together they lifted off.

Riding Aurora was very different from riding Cirrus. For one thing, Cirrus wasn't nearly so fast. In a few wingbeats, the people on the ground were reduced to ants. For another, she had the feeling Cirrus knew how to fly more smoothly. Perhaps it was because Aurora had to work harder to rise than he was used to, but Bryn was bouncing up and down every wingbeat. She felt Aurora settle into a long glide, picking up speed with a gentle downward slope. She called to him to circle the island once, then land. She felt him tilt obediently, and they were making a swift but wide circuit around Berk. Bryn felt more confident in Aurora's abilities, but her hands were still clenched in a deathgrip on her saddle. Her heart was hammering for a more familiar reason, but Aurora's steady flight was very reassuring.

A Deadly Nadder approached, flying alongside Aurora. Bryn grinned at Chief Astrid, who gave her a thumbs-up in return. "You going on patrols anytime soon?" the older woman called.

"Maybe in a year or so!" the teenager called back. "When we've had more practice together."

"Can I convince you to join in six months?" Astrid asked.

"I dunno, ask me in six months!" Bryn called back. Aurora gave a small, for lack of a better word, yip. It sounded like his growl, but higher-pitched and only half a second long. Bryn looked at him, and he put his nose downward. Bryn glanced at the chief. "I'll see you around!" She called as Aurora began his very, very fast descent. Bryn leaned back and prayed very hard— mainly to Thor, though her habit was to pray to Odin so some of those might've snuck in, and maybe even a prayer to Loki, and the closer the ground got, the more Bryn prayed to the Valkyries to see her death as a courageous defiance of her fear.

At the last moment before they hit the cliff, Aurora swopped upward, slowing down dramatically, and he landed as gently as a feather on the ground in front of the hatchery. Bryn dismounted into a heap on the ground, gasping and not quite certain she was alive. As Aurora leaned over to peer at her, she caught her breath enough to say, "Next time— please— (huff, huff) please— for the love of the gods—(huff) come in— more— slowly—"

Aurora snorted and nosed her until she stumbled to her feet. She undid his saddle and carried it, still breathing heavily, to the tackroom of the hatchery, setting the leather and metal monstrosity on an unused rack. She then shakily went to see where Ottar was. She found him in the midst of a conversation with someone Bryn knew by sight but couldn't name off the top of her head. They were haggling over the price of young and rather runty Hideous Zippleback, which Bryn did not interrupt. Rather, she got herself a drink and waited for the customer to leave before rejoining her father to regale him with the tale of her first ride on Aurora.

The rest of the afternoon was rather standard: chores, hand-to-hand with Tor, who nearly threw her, then dinner. Freya seemed a little distracted, but when Ottar mentioned Bryn's flight she snapped into focus and immediately demanded to hear all about it, after which she proclaimed her daughter was going to be a great Viking. Bryn complimented Tor's fighting skills, and Tor, without being asked, recounted what Bryn had taught him and how he had very nearly beaten her that day.

All in all, it had been a very pleasant day.

The next day was quite similar for the most part. Bryn performed her chores, helped show off dragons to potential buyers, flew a little with Aurora, who broke up his descent into smaller chunks this time, cleaned dragons' pens, and delivered several pipping eggs to their excited new family. That was a delicate process, handled with Aurora watching the cart from behind, a young but steady Wooly Howl pulling slowly, and Bryn by turns leading the Howl and checking on the delicate eggs.

It was getting dark out when the three relieved and much lighter deliverers were returning home. It had been quite a satisfying day until that point, when Bryn heard voices from the dark place between two houses. She heard one young, panicked voice, which she recognized, and several older, feminine ones, which she did not recognize. She walked closer, quietly, listening in.

"Hey, hey, relax, kid, this won't hurt a bit." One female, who must be at least eighteen, was saying.

"Don't worry about it, you'll like it. Everyone does." Said another, which Bryn couldn't pin an age onto.

"I don't want to! Please, just let me go home!" the young male said again, though his tone was weak. The others ignored his words.

"Relax, it'll be over quick, and you'll thank us later." Said a third voice, which Bryn thought must be at least fifteen but could be twice or triple that age. She couldn't tell.

"It's okay to want this," said the second voice again, and Bryn heard cloth sliding over skin and feet shuffling.

Bryn had heard enough. Astrid had told her that someday she would probably meet a _certain type of person_ against which she'd have to use _certain moves_ , and do her best to bring them in for justice. She had never thought she would use them against women, but as rage coursed through her, she realized that _of course_ there would be women she might have to fight this way.

Bryn ran in without a battle cry or even much sound at all. Three women were crouched around a little boy with his clothes askew, and none realized she was there until she kicked the first one into a wall. The second looked up in time to get a fist to the face, but the third made a run for it. Bryn caught her and, adrenaline making her stronger than she would have believed possible, she hurled the older girl to the ground.

Bryn stood between three women, one gasping for air against a wall, one unconscious and bleeding freely from her nose, one lying stunned on the ground. A clatter of claws announced Aurora's arrival. Bryn instructed him to watch the women and make sure they didn't move, before she went over to her student.

"Stoick? Did they hurt you?" Bryn asked, her voice shaking as she knelt by the wide-eyed boy.

"I— I— what were they doing to me?" The young boy asked. Bryn hesitated.

"They— um— well— there are some things that adults do for each other that we find nice, but only when they all agree to it. They were going to do it to you when you said not to, which is a bad thing." Bryn said tentatively. "Are you okay?"

The boy shook a little, then pushed himself into Bryn's arms. "Okay. Okay." She muttered, picking him up and carrying him out of the alley. She unhooked the Wooly Howl and set him to guarding the women with Aurora. She walked to the Chiefs' house and, hesitantly, knocked loudly on the front door. The whole time she had been trying to say comforting things to the frightened boy on her hip, but, having never been in such a serious situation, wasn't sure what she could say that would be entirely true. She settled on telling him that she and his parents would make it okay.

Chief Astrid opened the door and stared, dumbstruck, at the sight of her frightened-looking child being held by her student-for-a-year. Then, in a matter of moments, they were all inside, Bryn attempting to explain delicately how she had found Stoick. It only felt like another couple of heartbeats had passed before Chief Hiccup pulled her up onto Toothless's back and had him run down the streets of town, Bryn calling directions until they arrived to where the women were being guarded by two formidable, if young, dragons.

The one with the bloody nose was sitting with the stunned one, holding her as she tried to balance while sitting up. The third one had light claw marks, bleeding freshly, which a glance downward told Bryn had been the work of Aurora. This woman was pacing, holding her belly where Bryn had kicked her, but was keeping well back from the watchful dragons. Bryn dismounted and patted Aurora's head as Hiccup sat high on his saddle, staring down the three women.

Very little was said, and Bryn found herself leading the Wooly Howl up the high street, the three women in the cart, Aurora and Toothless with Hiccup on his back guarding them from the rear. They were brought to a place not far from the Chiefs' domicile and locked in a little-used cell. Toothless and the Wooly Howl were set to guard them, and take turns sleeping.

"Thank you, Brynjar." Hiccup said as they parted ways. Bryn looked up at the Chief, surprised. "I don't want to think about what would have happened if you hadn't been there."

"Chief— Great Chief Hiccup, I was just in the right place at the right time— anyone would've—" Hiccup quieted her with a gesture.

"You would be surprised at the number of people who wouldn't have noticed, or who would have shuffled right by because it was none of their business. Yes, it was luck that you were there, or the gods' work, or something; but you chose to act, and if you hadn't, we might be out looking for him right now. But you protected him, and brought him home, and I am thanking you for that."

Bryn was silent. She nodded.

"I'm going to need you to come back here tomorrow morning. You're the only witness, and we'll need you to give evidence to the priests of Syn and Forseti."

"Of course. I'll be there." Bryn said at once.

"Thank you. I mean it." Hiccup repeated, and Bryn nodded awkwardly. She still felt she had only done what was right, but, as she walked beside Aurora, who was now pulling the cart, she considered the number of times she had failed to act out of selfishness. Everyone said it was right to tell her family the truth about her fears and why she had gotten special training, but she didn't want to face her mother's or brother's reactions. That was the major one, but as she walked a thousand smaller instances came to mind; it was like running a hand through a sack of grains, and watching the tiny things rise as her fingers dug under them and drop as they were pushed up by new grains, running over like water…

"Where in Hel's name have you been? There's been some kind of commotion and we were worried sick about you!"

Bryn jumped at Ottar's sharp voice. She rarely heard her father speak sharply, but then again, she had been gone for about twice as long as had been expected. She opened her mouth to start explaining as she unhitched Aurora, but cut herself off when she saw that Tor was still up.

"Where is the Wooly Howl I sent you out with?" Ottar asked. "And— is that _blood_ in the wagon? _What has been going on?_ "

Bryn faltered, then said, "It is a _really long story_ ," and added in a softer voice, "and Tor should _not hear about it_."

Ottar looked very surprised, but went to chivvy Tor off to bed. Bryn attempted to clean out the wagon, which was spotted with blood, mainly from the woman with the broken nose, but some may have come from the woman who had clearly attempted to leave.

Ottar returned with Freya, and Bryn sat down in the cleaner if wet and a little stained wagon to tell a shortened version of the story. "I'm going to the trial tomorrow," she said when she'd finished.

Ottar and Freya looked at each other.

"I will keep Tor busy here," Ottar said, in some silent agreement with his wife,

"I'll come with you to the trial." Said Freya, who had been staring Ottar down.


End file.
